


Much Ado About Eyebrows

by Shea M (bubblebee)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But it works out I think, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek's Eyebrows, He's a hairy man, Lots of mention of Derek's brows, M/M, Out of character for Derek a bit, Stiles is his usual self, fluff fluff fluff, major fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebee/pseuds/Shea%20M
Summary: Stiles gets kidnapped. Derek has eyebrows.





	Much Ado About Eyebrows

**Author's Note:**

> This is fluff. Plain and simple. 
> 
> I know that Derek's character is a bit off but I tried to make it work out. I'm not very good at this kind of thing yet. 
> 
> Hopefully I did okay.
> 
> Also, I have a Tumblr, @spidersonparker. 
> 
> (I'd do just the worded link but I'm on mobile and can't).
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy the story!

At this point, Stiles was starting to think that the universe didn't necessarily care much for him. 

What else was he supposed to think when this was the _third time_ in _one_ month that he'd been kidnapped as leverage by some pack of supernatural beings? Stiles was currently strapped to a chair with his mouth gagged and his eyes covered in some location that was unknown to him. 

He didn't think the pack of fairies that took him would take him out of town, considering that they needed their ransom before sunrise or else they'd be trapped somewhere or something. Stiles didn't really pay all that much attention to what they were saying when they shouted their terms and conditions to Derek and Scott; too busy bitching to the glowing creatures about having already been snatched up by another wolf pack not two weeks ago. 

Because really, it's was starting to get a bit tedious.

Stiles’ body was _still_ sore from the last time he was tied to something cold and uncomfortably solid. Stiles was about to start screaming through this gag again just to piss of the fairies, it had been his only source of entertainment for the last five hours, when there was a loud metallic crash from the other side of the room. He cocked his head toward the sound, pulse racing with renewed adrenaline as he heard footsteps stomping over to where he was bound.

Hands were frantic on his face as they removed his gag and blindfold. Stiles blinked hard a few times, the room he was in (apparently it was a warehouse, it's always a warehouse) being a lot brighter than he previously thought, and saw Derek kneel down to cut the rope around his legs with an elongated claw. When he stood back up to get the rope around Stiles’ arms and chest, Derek looked frenzied and almost... concerned, as if he was worried for Stiles’ well being. He wasn't though, Stiles knew, because Derek didn't have any feelings. 

Only eyebrows. Lots of eyebrow. 

Stiles stood up as soon as he was free, aiming to go running in the direction of snarling because he wanted to snarl too, but a sharp and hairy hand caught him before he could get farther than a few steps.

“Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?” Derek snapped gruffly, voice distorted by a mouthful of canine chompers. He had a death grip on Stiles’ arm, but he was careful not to slice him with his claws.

“Oh, well, I was going to go join in on all the snarling and biting going on over there.” Stiles mashed his teeth together for emphasis.

“No, you're not. You're waiting outside in the Jeep until we come out and you're not to step foot inside this place until we do.” Derek fixed his eyebrows on him in a stern stare. “Is that clear?” 

Stiles nodded vigorously, a bit scared of the brows.

“Good, now go.” 

With that, Derek let go of Stiles’ arm and stalked towards the doggy pile thrashing around on the ground. Stiles debated on actually listening to Derek or listening to the obviously suicidal part of his brain that wanted to say fuck it and just jump right in said doggy pile. In the end, the Derek part won out, and Stiles slipped through a door behind him unnoticed. 

Stiles had only been waiting in his beloved Jeep for about 20 minutes when Scott and Derek came walking out. Battered and bleeding a little, but triumphant all the same. 

The sun was just starting to rise behind them and it all looked like a badass job well done. Stiles started the Jeep once they got in, Derek surprisingly flopping down in the passenger seat, and began the drive back home to Beacon Hills.

 

** 

 

When they arrived back home an hour and a half later it was almost eight in the morning, and everyone seemed still too hopped up on fighting juice to sleep. 

Everyone but the kidnapee that is. He was so tired that it was a miracle they got here alive. Stiles pulled into the Hale house driveway, ready to just drop the two wolves off and head home so he could crash face down, ass up in his bed. Scott hopped out and headed inside, throwing a goodnight and thank you to Stiles over his shoulder.

Derek remained seated, however, the caterpillars on his face scrunched up in a deep, thoughtful frown. He looked like he was constipated.

“Hey, big guy, you okay?” Stiles asked, reaching a hand out to grope Derek's shoulder, but remembering all the other times that didn't go so well, Stiles decided against it and instead rested it on the console between them. “Derek? Seriously dude, I've never seen your eyebrows so upset looking, what is going on?”

Derek didn't look at Stiles but he could see that he still had the same manic looking worry sitting on his face from the warehouse, but this time it seemed more, resigned. Defeated, almost. 

Stiles has never been more anxiously confused in his life. 

Before Stiles could panic more and ask him what was wrong yet again, Derek opened his mouth, deliberately keeping his eyes on the windshield.

“Why do all these other monsters keep taking you from me?” 

Stiles was at a surprising loss for words. Derek sounded genuinely upset. _Taking him_ from _Derek? What the shit was that supposed to mean?_

“I don't understand it,” Derek went on, “I do everything I can to keep you safe, keep you here where I can see you, but it's not enough. It's never enough. You're always the one that gets taken by our threats and I'm fucking sick of it.” Derek finally looked over at Stiles, and this time the eyebrows had a softer, more sad look to match the soft sad in his grey-blue eyes. 

It was now Derek that was reaching out to touch Stiles, putting a big hand on the arm that was still rooted between them.

“I am so sorry that it's always you. I wish I knew why they did it, it's probably because you're the only human, and in most packs humans are a treasure.” Derek's voice was softer than Stiles ever thought possible. He always assumed that Derek constantly had a sore throat because of how gruff he always sounded. This was a nice and confusing change.

“Derek, buddy, did you hit your head back there? Because the words coming out of your face and the expressions in your eyebrows don't make sense and I'm starting to get genuinely worried.”

“No, I'm fine, Stiles, just listen.” Derek moved his hand to grasp Stiles’, curling his fingers through the bony appendages. Stiles felt his face flush, and he knew that Derek could hear his heart running track in his chest.

“I know it seems...odd...for me to talk this way, to you of all people, but I mean it. All of it. I hate that you're always the one with the short straw, and I promise you I'm going to make damn sure it never happens again.” 

The baton had been passed to Stiles’ stomach, which was now going for gold, judging by the crazy amount of butterflies Stiles was feeling. 

Stiles _had_ to be dreaming. Maybe _he_ hit his head. 

Derek started stroking figure eights into the back of Stiles hand, looking nervous, but relieved, like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. Probably all the emotional constipation he's been lugging around since Stiles knew him. Good, his eyebrows deserved a break. 

Derek went on.“I care a lot about you, okay? I know I don't show it properly, but I do. I'd give my life for yours, anyday. Always. I know I don't deserve anything you give me, but just give me something so I know what to do next.” 

He looked hopeful, and extremely terrified, like a nerd asking the most popular cheerleader out to prom. Hopeful because anything is possible, but terrified because he knows there's no chance in hell. 

It's a good thing Stiles wasn't a cheerleader.

“You...you hear my heart, right? I know you do, because it sounds like a racehorse even to me. I also know that you know that it sounds like that every time we're in the same room together.” Taking his hand of the steering wheel, Stiles covered Derek's hand with his, taking his turn on the ice rink that was the back of Derek's hand. His figure eights were sloppy, his form off due to the trembling in his hands.

“I want you to know that I sometimes _pray_ the monsters to take me. That way they won't threaten to take _you_ away from _me_. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't get to feast my eyes on those fantastic eyebrows for more than a day. I'd probably suffer from withdrawal.” 

Derek scoffed and rolled his eyes, back to the same old Derek, apart from the soft smile that graces his lips and the hand that he doesn't attempt to free from the trap between Stiles’.

“Well, I'll do best to make sure you always get your fix.” Derek said this dryly, but his smiled stayed.

“Thanks, big guy. Now if you don't mind, I feel like I'm about to collapse in your driveway, so I'd like to sleep before that happens. Not that I don't like what we're doing here, but us humans have to do it to survive. We can't all survive on sheer will power of eyebrows alone.” Stiles was hoping that Derek would get the hint he was chucking at his face. He didn't feel like driving home, didn't think.he’d make all the way there, and he felt like he and Derek still had a lot to talk about. 

Derek did catch the hint, right between those iconic eyebrows.


End file.
